


Northolt Academy Chronicles

by fanficlove



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Dark!Harry, F/M, Graphic Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Canon Magic School, OMC - Freeform, Slash, powerful!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4097275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficlove/pseuds/fanficlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Northolt Academy of Magic, where the only thing that matters is Power. Meet Harry Potter, the current Top Dog of the Academy. The Wizarding won’t know how to react to this version of their prophesized hero.</p><p>I'm on Tumblr: myficscrystal.tumblr.com. Check me out for more Fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

_6 years ago_

Little Harry Potter sat in his cupboard, eyes fixated on the two envelops he had managed to sneak in to his pockets before Uncle Vernon saw. They were both addressed to him – _Harry James Potter_ – along with his address and precise position. Harry had never had anyone address letters to him before so that was why it was even more important to not let his relatives take them away from him.

With trembling hands – part from excitement and other part from anticipation – Harry tore open the first envelop and extracted its content. The letter inside was written on some weird, flaky paper that he couldn’t identify. But that didn’t matter, for what was written in the letter nearly took his breath away.

_Harry James Potter_

And…

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

“Witchcraft and Wizardry?” little Harry said out loud, testing the foreign words on his tongue. According to the letter, James and Lily Potter had signed him up the moment he was born. It was his destiny to go there, like his parents, his grandparents and everyone in his family lineage.

For some reason, that sat really badly with Harry.

He frowned a little, wondering if this was just some elaborate joke his sick relatives had decided to play on him. He really wouldn’t put it past them to get his hopes up like this and laugh in his face. And besides, magic doesn’t exist…right?

_Then, what about all those things that kept happening around you?_

**_There must be a logical explanation._ **

_You’re in denial._

Harry sighed, putting the first letter aside to grab on to the second envelop.

The second letter was printed on regular but expensive paper big companies used for formal correspondence. Harry knew that because he had seen his Uncle receive one a couple of weeks ago. The paper was a status symbol in a way, his Uncle had explained, it shows that they think you are important enough to warrant this luxury. He had then looked at Harry and sneered. “Not that you would ever receive something like this.”

But Uncle Vernon was wrong, Harry smiled to himself. Someone did think him important enough to use the good paper. And that in itself was enough to convince the little boy that the second letter wasn’t a hoax concocted by his relatives.

The content of the second letter was printed out in block form; black against white; perfectly formatted and undeniably professional. It read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We, here at Northolt Academy Boarding School, would like congratulate you on being chosen, as a result of our extensive selection process, as a potential student. Northolt Academy is one of the best schools all around and we believe that with your specific skillset, you will fit in perfectly. We have the latest facilities, the best teachers to help you grow and reach your full potential.

If you are interested in being a part of our family for the next 7 years, please sign your name on the dotted line below.

We hope you will chose us for your continued education.

Sincerely yours,

_Mary Taylor_

Northolt Academy Admissions Officer

Should he do it? Young Harry pondered this question for some time. The offer seemed genuine enough. Should he take a chance? He wanted to.

With a sigh, Harry took the pen that had been included in the envelop and signed his name on the dotted line, not knowing that this moment would change his life forever.

* * *

_Present day_

“Welcome to Northolt Academy!”

11 years old Anna Mary tried not to appear too intimidated as she followed the rest of her future classmates in to the castle-like structure of the main school building. Anna, who had come from modest means, found the whole experience absolutely mind-boggling. So much wealth; so much opulence, all for the 200 students of this school to enjoy. She was so glad she had chosen to come here instead of Hogwarts.

Their guide, a tall handsome curly haired young man, stopped in front of a set of double doors and turned around to address them.

“First of all, congratulations to all of you for being chosen,” he said, his voice carrying easily across the hall, “My name is Francois Gilbeaut, I am a 5th year student here at Northolt Academy. I will be your guide. Before we go in, please listen carefully to my introduction.

Northolt Academy was founded on one principle: There’s only power and those too weak to seek it. Here, we don’t care if you are muggleborn or pureblood. We don’t care if you are a Veela or a Vampire. All we care is how strong of a wizard or witch you are.

Students here are divided in to three houses. The House of Merlin is the elite ruling class of the school, named after the Father of magic himself. Every student should aspire to become a member of the House of Merlin and you can do so by working hard and ascending the ranks. Don’t expect to be sorted directly in to the House of Merlin as a first year, it’s just not done.”

“Excuse me,” said a young boy a few feet from Anna, “I heard there had been an exception to that rule.”

Francois’ eyes narrowed in on the speaker and something akin to interest made him smile.

“Your information is correct,” he said before turning to look at the group once more, “There has been an exception. 6 years ago, a little boy did indeed come to this school as a first year and waited to be sorted just as you lot will be. To everyone’s immense shock, the sorting spell deemed him strong enough to be a part of the House of Merlin despite his young age. His name is Harry James Potter.”

There was a collective gasp.

“You will meet him of course,” Francois continued, ignoring everyone’s reaction, “He’s the current captain of our school’s Dueling club. If you want to join, he’s the one to approach. Now, one last thing before we enter. Each student is resorted every year to see if they have made enough improvements throughout the year to move ahead. But you won’t have to worry about that till the end of the year. With that said, are there any other questions before we go in?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Perfect, off we go then.”

Francois turned around and pushed open the double doors.

* * *

“Francois! Welcome back.”

Francois smiled at Adrien and took a seat next to the man on their common room sofa. The House of Merlin always had the best furnishings; not surprising considering they were the Top Dogs of the school.

“Hey,” he said, “Did you guys eat yet?”

“No, we’re still waiting for Harry,” Adrien replied, eyes drifting over to the fireplace where Harry Potter sat. The young man of barely 17 cut an imposing figure in his uniform, tailored to the perfection, the House of Merlin insignia sewn on to one breast pocket.

Francois has always found the current leader of their house a gorgeous specimen. Aristocratic features, luminous green eyes and an athletic figure, Harry James Potter turned heads wherever he went. The aura of power and intrigue that clung to him like a second skin added to his allure. He was sensual in a way many 17 years old weren’t. He was confident but not arrogant; he was kind but cruel at the same time. One couldn’t help but feel honored just to be in his presence, and his supposedly exploits as an infant has nothing to do with it.

“You’re drooling again,” Adrien remarked dryly.

Francois turned to him and glared.

“I don’t know if your crush is cute or pathetic. He’s not interested in you, you do know that right?”

“I’m well aware that our esteemed leader is not interested in me,” Francois hissed, annoyed at Adrien’s words despite their veracity. Although openly bisexual, Harry was so out of his league that it wasn’t funny; mainly because Harry preferred the more demurred and submissive type and Francois was neither.

Almost as if to confirm his thoughts, Francois saw from the corner of his eye a young man with delicate features and a slight figure, make his way across the room towards where Harry was sitting.

“Hey, isn’t that Andrei’s little brother?”

Andrei Antov was another member of the House of Merlin; a sixth year with longish black hair and a natural talent for transfiguration. He was the heir of one of Bulgaria’s oldest and wealthiest families. His little brother Alek was in fifth year and despite his stellar academic performance up to date, still hadn’t managed to make it just yet.

“Yeah,” Francois confirmed, “That’s him. What’s he-”

His words were cut off as Alek touched Harry on the shoulder before sliding gracefully on to the latter’s lap.

“Oh Merlin,” Adrien said. He sounded more shocked then anything else. “How long had this been going on?”

Francois gritted his teeth and resolutely looking away.

“It’s none of business,” Francois snapped, “You know the rule; what happens in the common room stays in the common room. We can bring our…lovers here if we are willing to vouch for them.”

He pretended not to see the pitying look Adrien threw his way.

* * *

6 years…6 years has already passed since his first steps in to the world of magic. It was incredible how fast time flies when you are having fun.

Snorting to himself at his own sentimentality, Harry looked down to his notebook, where a list of names were written in elegant handwriting. They were the 20 students that had the potential of becoming members of the House of Merlin next year. It was Harry’s job as the leader of the house to select 5 he particularly liked. It wasn’t a pleasant job by any means but it was necessary.

Sighing, Harry fiddled absentmindedly with his pen as he thought.

A tap on his shoulder made him look up from his musings. Alek Antov stood beside him, his hair a little damp from the shower. He was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, the outfit snug in just the right places to outline his figure perfectly.

“Alek,” Harry smiled.

“Good morning Harry,” Alek replied, slipping in to his lap as if he belonged there. Harry allowed it, mostly because Alek was gorgeous and could submit to Harry in the most delicious way possible.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Harry snaked an arm around Alek’s middle, keeping him in place. Alek let out a small sound of appreciation at that.

“I was busy unfortunately,” he bit his lip, “Father needed my help.”

Alek’s father was the current Bulgarian minister of magic.

Harry’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Really now,” he said, “Anything I should know?”

It wasn’t really a question, but an order. Alek knew it only too well.

“They’ve decided to host the Triwizard tournament this year at Hogwarts.”

Harry hummed.

“Yes,” he said, “I heard about that. Have they decided which schools would be allowed to participate?”

“It was supposed to be Beauxbatons, Hogwarts and Dumstrang, but Beauxbatons dropped out. They want Northolt Academy to take their place.”

“Now, that wouldn’t be fair, would it?” Harry smirked, his eyes showing how funny he found that particular prospect.

“No,” Alek admitted, “It wouldn’t. It wouldn’t even be a competition. You know, they’re probably ask you to compete if that’s the case.”

“Perhaps,” Harry said, not confirming what everyone knew to be the truth. When it came to raw power, Harry really couldn’t be beat. He was the school’s reigning duel champion and would undoubtedly bring back the Triwizard trophy.

“You’re being coy again,” Alek whined, making the other man laugh a little.

“We’ll see what happens.”

“And talking about choices,” Alek glanced down at the list Harry was holding in one hand, “Do you think I’ll get a chance to make to Merlin next year?”

“You know that’s confidential,” he told the other teen.

Alek pouted, wiggling a little in Harry’s lap, in guise of getting himself more comfortable. Harry growled lowly when he felt his own erect cock rub against Alek’s ass and by the triumphant look Alek threw him, he knew what he was doing.

“You are a little devil,” he told the boy.

Using sex as a tool to manipulate people was rather common at Northolt. In fact, they even had a class on it. Sex, like magic, could consume the mind if used correctly and Alek Antov knew just the right buttons to push.

“I do wish you would let yourself go,” Alek purred, “You’re always in control Harry, don’t you get bored?”

“Minx,” Harry said before pushing Alek off. As much as he wanted to pursue what they both would enjoy immensely, he had work to do. Besides, he was planning to see the Headmaster after lunch and a just-fucked look just won’t cut it.

Alek took a few steps back before winking to someone over Harry’s shoulder. Harry glanced over as well, just in time to see Francois grit his teeth and look down.

He sighed.

“Don’t do that Alek,” he said. Francois was one of this best friends and although the crush the boy had on him was a little inconvenient, he really didn’t like it when other people mocked the boy for it.

Alek laughed.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Looks like I overstayed my welcome judging by his glare. I’m going to go now.”

“Keep me posted on the tournament’s front,” Harry ordered.

“Yes master,” Alek replied sweetly before disappearing out the door.

Hogwarts, Harry mused to himself once Alek was gone. How interesting…

This year was going to be fun…


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

_6 years ago_

Little Harry looked about himself in awe, taking in the luxurious furnishings of the House of Merlin’s Common room and trying not to feel out of place in his second-hand uniform. Everyone here just looked so elegant, with their perfectly combed hair and perfectly pressed robes; Harry was like the troll who somehow got invited to the prince’s birthday party.

“Oh come on kid,” said a voice, “Don’t look like that. You’re making me feel bad.”

Harry turned towards the speaker and forced a smile as the older boy came closer.

“Hello,” he said shyly, “I’m sorry. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“I can see that,” the boy sighed, looking him over, “I’m Jared by the way. I’m graduating next year.”

“Harry,” replied Harry, extending a hand for Jared to shake, “I’m new.”

“Yes,” Jared grinned, “You created quite a ruckus earlier. No one had ever been sorted in to this house as a first year. You must be crazy powerful.”

“I won’t know that,” Harry admitted, “I didn’t even know I had magic before I came here.”

“No way,” Jared gaped. “Hey Christian, did you hear that?”

Another boy appeared, this one looking a little younger than Jared.

“Really?” he asked in surprise, “Wow.”

Harry blushed, not used to being the center of attention.

“Don’t worry about not knowing about magic,” Christian assured him, “We’re here to help you.”

“Yeah,” Jared agreed, nodding his head vigorously, “We’ll be your mentors.”

“Thank you so much,” Harry said sincerely, aghast to find his eyes getting a little wet from the emotion. Luckily, no one called him out on it.

“First things first,” Christian bit his lip, “You need a change of cloth. Members of Merlin need to maintain a certain image and second-hand uniforms does not fit.”

“But I don’t have money,” Harry protested, looking down.

“Don’t worry about that,” Jared waved his hands dismissively, “The school’s willing to cover all your expenses as long as you stay a good student.”

“They even give you monetary bonuses if you outperform the others,” Christian added. “The basic amount offered to each student should already be in your account. We’ll bring you to the bank so you can withdraw as much as you need.”

“It’s awfully nice of you,” Harry repeated, unable to believe his luck. Were all students here so welcoming?

“Hey, no problem,” Christian said, ruffling Harry’s hair, “We’re all together here, so you won’t ever have to worry about being alone again.”

And wasn’t that the most wonderful thing that Harry has ever heard.

* * *

_Present Day_

“It’s official,” said Christian. After his graduation 4 years ago, Christian Larouge went on to become a highly valued member of the French Ministry of Magic. Despite how busy he was, he still maintained fairly regular contact with Harry through fire calls. “Beauxbaton won’t be competing in this year’s Triwizard Tournament. Instead, Northolt Academy will be taking their place.”

“Do they even know what they got themselves in to by making this arrangement?” Harry couldn’t help but ask. “Surely they don’t actually believe Northolt Academy will be on the same level as their Champions.”

“Maybe it’s arrogance,” Christian offered, “Who knows, but the heart of the matter is, you will probably have to travel to Hogwarts in a few weeks time.”

Harry sighed.

“There is a possibility that the Headmaster would not send me,” he said.

Christian laughed.

“That’s cute Harry,” he snorted, “Anymore jokes I should hear before I go?”

Harry glared playfully at the other man.

“No,” he sighed again, “I guess I better pay the Headmaster a visit. This uncertainty is wrecking havoc on my plans.”

“What plans?” Christian smiled innocently.

“Ha ha,” Harry said dryly, “You’re a regular comedian. And talking about comedians, maybe you can spread some good cheer to that brother of yours. Francois has been moping for 4 days now.”

“Oh, that’s because of Alek,” Christian said bluntly, “How’s it going with him?”

“Nothing’s been going on with him,” Harry replied, “Alek found himself another prey. I don’t know if I should be offended or relieved to be dropped for someone not even nearly as pretty.”

“That is good news for Francois,” Christian bit his lips in thought, “My brother could be a little oblivious most of the time. Why don’t you tell him directly that Alek won’t be coming around anymore? He’ll perk up for sure.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Harry replied, “Anyway, thanks for the confirmation Christian. We’ll be in touch.”

“Of course,” Christian smiled one last time before disconnecting.

* * *

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore walked in to the staff meeting room to find that all of his teachers were already present.

“Good morning,” he said, taking a seat at the head of the table. “I’m glad to see that you’re all here. Today, we will be discussing the upcoming Triwizard tournament.”

“Is it true that Beauxbaton is no longer in the running?” asked Professor Flitwick.

“Yes,” Dumbledore confirmed, “Northolt Academy of Magic will be taking their place.”

There was a collective gasp at that piece of information.

“You got to be kidding,” Severus Snape deadpanned, “Who in Merlin’s name thought that would be fair game?”

“I’m sorry,” said Professor Marvin, the newest Muggle studies professor, “I don’t think I have ever heard of a Northolt Academy.”

“Oh that’s normal dear,” Madame Pomphrey patted the man on the arm, “Northolt isn’t exactly…public knowledge.”

“Why wouldn’t letting Northolt compete be fair game?” Marvin insisted, “Aren’t they just another magic school?”

Snape snorted derisively as the Headmaster turned his attention to the Muggle Studies Professor.

“Northolt Academy has the reputation of producing some of the world’s strongest witches and wizards. Merlin was the founder of Northolt and all four Hogwarts founders have attended the school. Their selection process is so extensive that it may take them up to a month to determine if a student is eligible or not. In addition, admission is by invitation only.”

“Northolt’s curriculum covers all aspect of magic and is tailored to each student. The school currently has about 200 students but employs more than 100 teachers.”

“Letting Northolt compete,” Snape continued, “would be like letting a trained Auror duel it out with a first year student. It would be a bloodbath.”

“Northolt is competitive to a fault,” the Headmaster said, “They will surely send their strongest student as their champion. I admit, it wouldn’t be fair to the other two chosen ones, but both Igor and Olympe has agreed to let Northolt participate. I really had no say.”

“Well,” Snape leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, “In that case, we already know who’s going to win, don’t we?”

“Not everything’s set in stone Severus,” Albus chided.

Severus rolled his eyes but did not reply.

“Anyway,” Albus returned his attention the room, “I have talked to the Headmaster of Northort this morning and their delegation will arrive with the one from Durmstrang. We have about 2 weeks left to prepare for their arrival. I have prepared a list of tasks that will need to be done. I trust you all to work together to make this tournament a successful one.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

“Are we ready to go?”

Harry Potter cast one last glance at the contents of his packed trunk before locking it with an advanced locking spell that will ensure that no one, except him, can go anywhere near it. Then, it was followed by a feather-light charm for easy transportation. When that was all done, he sat back down on his dorm bed and watched as Francois did his own locking process.

“Yeah,” Francois grunted, having a little difficulty fitting everything in properly. “Just a minute.”

“Are you two still in here?” Adrien walked in, took note of Francois’ pained expression and burst out in to delighted laughter.

“It’s not funny,” hissed the other young man.

“It is a little funny,” Adrien said before turning to Harry.

“Your carriage awaits your majesty.”

Harry rolled his eyes and got up, his trunk floating after him curtsey of a wordless and wandless floating charm.

“Don’t be cheeky Adrien,” he chided. “And you, Francois, why don’t you just shrink everything instead of trying to fit it all in.”

“Francois is very particular about his clothing,” Adrien told him conspiratorially, “He only buys the best brands and they tend to come with an anti-shrinking warning.”

“Now that’s just not practical,” Harry chuckled, ignoring the glare Francois threw at Adrien.

“You guys are hilarious,” the boy grunted, finally straightening up. “Hey Harry, are you the only candidate for Hortholt or did the Headmaster decide to send someone else as well.”

“I think he wants _you_ to put your name in,” Harry admitted and watched in interest as Francois’ face lost all his color.

“You got to be kidding me,” he nearly shrieked, “I don’t want anywhere near that thing. Do you know the death toll? It’s not good.”

“And you’re not worried about me?” Harry joked, trying for hurt.

Francois waved his words away with one dismissive gesture.

“I’m not worried about you because I know you,” he said, “You are not one of the top students of the Academy for nothing. This tournament will be a piece of cake. As for me, I may be in the same House as you, I am no where near your level.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Harry admonished him, “You can be very resourceful if your put your mind to it.”

“But it will hurt his tiny brain,” Adrien said in all seriousness and didn’t even try to dodge the punch Francois threw his way.

“It’s too bad you’re not coming,” Harry interrupted before Francois could maim Adrien.

“I’m a little disappointed,” Adrien admitted, “I wanted to be part of all the excitement, but someone has to stay here and be the leader.”

“Now, now Adrien,” Harry warned, “With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Yeah I know,” the boy sighed, “I’ve seen the paperwork I will have to do. Hadrian, if ever I tell you again that I envy your position, remind me of this moment.”

“Well do,” Hadrian laughed.

After 10 more minutes of manoeuvring, Francois was finally ready to go so he and Hadrian made their way to the Entrance Hall where the rest of the little group heading to Hogwarts were waiting.

“Master Potter, Master Gilbeault,” a fifth year student greeted them as they came near. He bowed as did everyone around him.

“Kell,” Harry acknowledged him, noting in amusement that uttering the boy’s name made him blush, “Where is the Headmaster?”

“He’s coming sir,” Kell said, “He told us to go wait on the plane.”

Harry nodded and followed Kell out of the school and towards a private jet Northolt always kept for far away travels. The exterior of the jet was pretty small but the interior had been magically expanded to give it the size of a plane 10 times its size. The décor was simple yet elegant; the Headmaster always had a wonderful eye for these sort of things.

Harry took a seat next to a window and was soon approached by a waiter dressed in the traditional black and white garbs of all people in his profession. He was young, pretty cute, with luminous brown eyes and an easy smile. He introduced himself as David.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” he asked, standing a little too close to Harry. But the young man in question didn’t mind.

“Just a cup of tea,” he said, returning the waiter’s smile, “I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

“Of course sir,” David replied, voice lower then normal, “I’ll here to _serve_.”

“Geez,” Francois grumbled once David was gone, “What is with you and barely legal twinks? You’re like catnip to him.”

“Are you jealous?” Harry asked, knowing the answer already.

“Of course not,” Francois huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture, “I have nothing to be jealous about.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed a bit before he sighed and leant back.

5 minutes later, the rest of the group arrived with the Headmaster and the plane took off right on schedule.

“Hogwarts, here we come,” Francois sighed and Harry smiled.

* * *

“Are you a little cold Mrs. Granger?”

Hermione Granger smiled a little at the concern in Headmaster Dumbledore’s voice and shook her head. She was a little cold actually but she wasn’t about to complain when it was her duty to be here as Head Girl to welcome the new arrivals. The group from Durmstrang had already arrived 20 minutes ago and were warming themselves up inside. Northholt was set to arrive in about 5 minutes. She could wait that long. Besides, if things got worse, she’ll just have to reapply the warming charm.

“Why couldn’t they time their arrival at the same time as Durmstrang?” Ron Weasley grumbled in annoyance. As one of the Gryffindor Prefects for that year, he too had the duty to be here but wasn’t accepting it as graciously as Hermione. The girl wasn’t surprised; Ron had never been particularly mature or responsible for that matter.

“Because Ronald,” Hermione sighed, wanting nothing more then to hit him over the head. She couldn’t believe they were actually in the same House and in the same year. “It’s to make it easier for security purposes.”

“Don’t call me Ronald,” Ron grumbled while Dumbledore pretended that they weren’t there.

Luckily for everyone’s nerves, 5 minutes later saw the shimmering of the ward surrounding Hogwarts before a plane appeared.

“What in Merlin’s name is that thing?” Ron gaped unattractively.

“It’s a jet,” Hermione reply with some awe. She hadn’t expected a magic school to be using a muggle jet to travel. Sure she knew some wizards liked muggle things and even used them – Mr. Weasley for example – but she had the distinct impression that most wizards stayed away from them.

“Ah yes,” Dumbledore smiled, “Northolt also differs from other magic schools for its stance on muggle technology. Students are encouraged to bring their muggle devices to school for educational purposes. The school even offer muggle wireless.”

“Northolt has Wi-FI!” Hermione nearly shrieked. Oh Merlin, how unfair was that?

Dumbledore just gave her a look before turning his attention back to the plane. While he was talking, the gigantic piece of machinery had landed on Hogwarts’ grounds with barely a sound. Hermione suspected that magic was involved in that one because the few times she had taken a plane to go somewhere, the sound had been deafening.

Magic to improve muggle technology, what a wonderful thought.

The door opened and a set of stairs appeared allowing the people inside to get out.

The first person to exit was a man with a beard that could even rival Dumbledore. Following him were two students wearing form fitting robes and matching blank expression. They were both very good looking but in Hermione’s opinion, they looked more like seasoned soldiers then students.

A group of 10 other students followed before the door closed behind him.

“Headmaster Adler,” Dumbledore greeted him, “How delightful. How was your trip?”

“It was uneventful,” Adler laughed and shook Dumbledore’s hand, “Ah, may I present my two candidates for the tournament? This is Francois Gilbeaut and Harry Potter.”

Silence.

Hermione watched as Dumbledore’s whole face changed, his expression turning in to one of shock as he took in the young man in question. It was the black haired one with the gorgeous green eyes. His expression didn’t flicker in face of Dumbledore’s.

“Harry Potter,” he said almost dazedly.

Hermione was taken aback as well.

Harry Potter; the boy-who-lived; the boy who shocked the entire British Wizarding world when he did not show up along with the other first years.

“Harry Potter,” Adler confirmed. He looked amused.

Hermione bit her lip.

This tournament, she thought, was going to be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**art 4**

In what was rapidly turning in to the most awkward silence Hermione had ever seen outside of a movie, Ron - the insensitive and tactless brat, as the girl liked to call him - blurted: “Wait! Harry Potter! You’re still alive?”

Hermione winced, feeling embarrassed that such a moron was not only a student, but a prefect as well. She wondered if the Headmaster was already regretting giving Ron the position. From the disappointment look the latter was sending the red head, that is indeed a big possibility.

Headmaster Adler, Hermione noticed, looked on the verge of laughter yet again. Harry’s friend, the other boy standing next to him, looked indignant at Ron’s words, not that Hermione could blame him. As for Harry himself, he just looked…confused but hiding it pretty well.

“Ronald,” Hermione snapped, unable to believe his lack of tact. Harry Potter or not; shock or not; they were still guests and thus should be treated with respect.

“I do not understand why that might surprise you,” Harry said, eyes narrowing, “or why you seem to know my name?”

“Of course we know your name,” Ron replied, waving his arms around to emphasis his point, “You’re the bloody boy-who-lived.”

Silence.

“The what?” Harry repeated, tone incredulous.

“The boy-who-lived,” Ron repeated excitedly. The little group composed of the other prefects who had also come out to greet the new arrivals were now all murmuring among themselves, occasionally casting looks at Harry. This, Hermione knew, was going to reach the Daily Prophet faster then the blink of an eye.

“Ronald,” Hermione tried once more, “This is not the place.”

Ron continued regardless.

“You survived the killing curse as a babe,” he exclaimed passionately, “You’re famous. Don’t you know? You defeated You-know-who when he cast the curse at you and it rebounded.”

Harry blinked.

“The killing curse rebounded,” he mumbled to himself before his eyes widened as understanding dawned upon him. “So that’s why she did it.”

“I’m sorry my boy,” interrupted Dumbledore, looking a little bit more composed then before. “But that’s why who did what?”

Harry looked amused now, Hermione noticed. His lips were quirked up at one end, as if he knew a great secret no one else knew.

“My mother,” he said simply, “But I do not want to get in to details here.”

“Albus,” Adler finally broke in before Dumbledore could press his student any further, “Don’t you think that keeping your guests out here is bad manner as a host?”  

“Of course,” Dumbledore said quickly, eyes widening. “Please, do come in. I will personally show you to your quarters.”

“That is wonderful,” Adler beamed and gestured for the rest of his students to debarque from the jet.

Hermione silently followed Dumbledore back in to the castle, unable to resist throwing Potter a few glances from time to time. Luckily, the boy seemed too engaged in a deep conversation with his friend to mind her indiscretion.

“Potter,” Ron hissed, catching up with her. “I can’t believe he’s here after 6 years.”

“I know you are a fan Ronald,” Hermione hissed back, mindful to keep her voice down. Getting caught gossiping about their guest was poor form after all. “But do try to keep a civilized manner around him. You are a prefect after all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron rolled his eyes. He was obviously not going to heed her warning. Hermione didn’t know why she even bothered in the first place. Ron was like that annoying little puppy who could never be taught. And what’s worse? He didn’t even have the puppy’s cuteness.

Hermione sighed. She really hoped things won’t blow up in her face.

* * *

“This is smaller then I imagined,” said Francois.

Harry cast an amused look at his friend. Francois, despite himself, grew up in the lap of luxury and can be more then a little snob at times.

“Hogwarts may be a private school but it does not have the same funding as Northolt,” Harry explained. He didn’t mind the size of the Great Hall; in fact, he found the place rather cosy. The charmed ceiling was a nice touch at any rate.

“Looks like they’re divided in to houses here as well,” Francois continued, looking around at the four tables. Harry noticed different patterned flags hanging above each of them.

“The red one is Gryffindor,” the bushy haired girl explained, pointing to one of the tables, “Then we have Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I’’m Hermione Granger by the way, Head Girl.”  

“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry shook her hand, ”If I may ask, how are the students divided?”

“Based on their personality traits,” she replied matter-of-factly, “Gryffindor is for the brave, Slytherin is for the cunning, Hufflepuff is for the loyal, and Ravenclaw is for those thirsting for knowledge.”

He blinked.

Francois snorted.

“Oh you got to be kidding me,” he laughed, “Who in Merlin’s name thought that would be a good idea?”

“It has always been this way,” the girl said a little defensively and Harry was quick to intervene.

“I apologize for Francois’ directness, but we do not see how putting 11 years old in to pre-defined boxes based on personality attributes that may very well change later in life, could be good for their future development. I understand that some people may think that putting children with similar traits together will make it easier for them to make friends but in reality, it gravely restricts their way of thinking. They should, from a young age, learn how to interact with all sort of people. Don’t you agree miss Granger?”

“I…” she stuttered, blinking hard, “I…” Put this way, she obviously had no idea why Hogwarts’ current system was good either. Poor girl, Harry thought, already so indoctrinated that she no longer questioned the rules.

Harry smiled kindly at her.

“Do not worry,” he said soothingly, “We respect tradition. After all, our school is built on tradition as well.”

Dumbledore, who had left to make sure everything was ready for them, took that moment to come back to them.

“You may now go sit where ever you want,” he smiled, “All the Dumstrang students have already settled down. Dinner will be served in a moment.”

“When will we be able to put in our names for the tournament?” Harry asked when he saw the Headmaster already engaged in deep conversation with an older witch at the Head Table. Sometimes, Harry wondered if someone as carefree as Adler was really was fit for being the Headmaster of such a prestigious school. Really, he thought, the man can be such an excitable child sometimes. 

“You can do it after dinner,” Dumbledore smiled, “And Mr. Potter, if I may talk to you privately after this? I would very much appreciate it.”

“I’m coming as well,” Francois broke in, “Professor.”

His gaze held no give so Dumbledore agreed reluctantly.

“Thank you for protecting my virtue Francois,” Harry said in amusement as Dumbledore walked away.

“That man is a master manipulator,” Francois said seriously, eyes never leaving Harry’s, “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Harry sighed. If there was one thing Harry knew it was Dumbledore’s reputation. That was another reason he was so grateful he hadn’t chosen Hogwarts all those years ago. He couldn’t imagine having to go school everyday under the thumb of someone who wants to control your every move. “He has to be. Come, let’s not think about that at the moment. We should choose a table and settle down.”

* * *

They ended up at the Slytherin Table, sitting down next to Victor Krum. Harry noticed that some of the students who had been outside when they had arrived and knew who he was, looked more then a little shocked by his decision. This, of course, made Harry frown. He didn’t even go to Hogwarts so why did it seem that they have already put some kind of label on him? 

“Victor,” Harry said, shaking his head minutely to dispel his concern for now. He forced a smile, “How delightful to see you.”

“Harry,” Victor replied, smiling as well. “With you as Northolt’s champion, we won’t stand a chance.”

“You flatter me Victor,” Harry replied, relaxing a little and easing in to their familiar playful banter. He liked Victor; he had met the man a few years ago when he had seen him train along with his Quidditch team. He was a wonderful player and a talented wizard. Francois, on the hand, wasn’t too keen on the Bulgarian. Apparently, he was too flirty for his taste. Harry really couldn’t see Victor Krum as “flirty” but he allowed Francois his own opinion. Sometimes, the boy’s crush on him could colour his perception of the world. It was an undesirable trait for sure, but an necessary evil that came with being human.

“Your guard dog seem a little on edge,” Victor commented off-handedly. Harry could have sworn Francois nearly growled in reply.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. Harry wondered if Francois knew that by acting the way he was, he was playing right in to Victor’s hands. 

“Who do you think will be Hogwart’s champion?” he asked a Hogwart’s student with a head of blond hair, turning to him instead of playing along with Victor’s game.

“Probably be that Diggory,” the boy replied in disgust. The name Diggory sounded familiar, Harry decided, perhaps the boy’s father is a member of the British ministry of magic.

“Cedric Diggory,” another girl said, pointing out the student in question. Harry followed her finger and his gaze landed on a handsome lad a little older then himself, sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Judging by the number of students hanging on to his every word, he was obviously popular; in other words, a worthy ally to have. “He’s one of the strongest students here…or so everyone say.”

“How interesting,” Harry said, already deciding to go introduce himself at the first given opportunity. Perhaps not today since he had so many things to do after dinner.

With his curiosity satisfied for the moment, he turned back to Victor, “You’ll be Durmstrang’s of course.”

“Of course,” Victor replied simply. It wasn’t boasting per say, it was a simple declaration of fact. Victor’s prowess in the world of duelling was well-known after all. “I can’t wait for-”

Unfortunately, Harry never did find out what he couldn’t wait for because at that moment, Victor was cut off by a commotion near the front.

Confused, Harry looked up from the man and towards the double doors where a red-headed girl had just entered. She walked towards the Gryffindor table, her gaze vacant, nearly bumping in to a few students as she passed. Surprisingly, no one called her out on it, preferring to scatter away like bugs.

“Who is she?” he asked, intrigued. Something was wrong with that girl, that much he knew.

“That’s Ginevra Weasley,” the blond replied, his tone odd. “She’s…I don’t know…She was normal…well, in her own way, up until her second year. Then, it appeared she became another person. Rumors has it she was the one to have opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Draco,” his friend snapped, “You know that’s not true. Only the Heir of Slytherin can open the Chamber and the Weasleys are sure hell not any where near that.”

“She looks possessed,” Francois said, eyes still fixated on the girl, “Don’t you think so Harry?”

“Hmm,” Harry agreed.

The girl suddenly looked towards him, as if sensing his attention and their gaze locked. Harry could have sworn he saw Ginevra’s brown orbs flash red for a second before she looked away again.

Harry’s smile grew.

Now, wasn’t that interesting…

“I know that look,” Francois hissed, “Please don’t try to find trouble on our first night here. Let’s just get this bloody tournament over with so we can go home.”

“Francois,” Harry mock gasped, “Where is your sense of adventure?”

“As far from you as possible,” Francois deadpanned before he returned all his attention back to his food, ignoring Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes.

At the Gryffindor Table, Ginevra ate on, her terrified classmates keeping as much of a distance from her as possible.

This trip, Harry mused, will be a show.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5  
**

The rest of dinner passed without any other disturbances. Once the food had been cleared away, Harry stood up with the rest of the students, getting ready to leave. As he did so, his gaze unconsciously turned to the Gryffindor table. He was a little disappointed though when he noticed that Ginevra Weasley was gone and everyone at her table seemed to have returned to normal, like a heavy weight had just been lifted. Harry wondered just what that little girl could have done to have such an impact on her classmates.

“Harry?”

He turned to Francois. His friend was looking at him with a concerned frown.

“We need to put our names in the Goblet,” he pointed to the artifact in question, placed on a pedestal in front of the Head Table. A couple of Durmstrang and Hogwarts students were already surrounding it. 

“Of course,” Harry said, smiling at his friend, “Are you entering as well?”

“Might as well,” Francois shrugged, “I doubt I’ll be chosen but I think the Headmaster wants me to sign up regardless.”

“You don’t look very enthusiastic,” Harry noticed, “Not your thing?”

“Putting myself in danger is generally not my thing,” the other man replied dryly, “But you wouldn’t understand that.”

“Not really,” Harry admitted sheepishly, “How boring would life be without a little excitement?”

Francois snorted.

“You are a trouble magnet,” he said matter-of-factedly.

“I am,” Harry admitted, “But I’m interesting to be around, _n’est-ce-pas?_ ”

Francois laughed, giving his arm a playful punch. 

“At least your french is getting better,” he said and Harry smiled.

After they had written their names on pieces of paper, Harry and Francois followed Victor to the Goblet. Then, one by one, they dropped their application in to the goblet, watching in interest as blue flames immediately engulfed their offering.

“Well, I’m going to retire for the night,” Victor told them with a smile once everything was done, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once he was gone, Harry followed the stream of students out of the Great Hall.

“Mr. Potter.”

At the sound of his name, Harry stopped in his steps and turned to his right where Professor Dumbledore was now standing.

“Hello,” Harry said, “Are we going to speak in your office?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Harry and Francois walked silently as the Headmaster lead them down the twisted corridors of the school until they reached a spiral staircase guarded by a gargoyle. After the right password was said, the gargoyle sprung to life and let them pass.

Professor Dumbledore’s office was simple in décor but incredible in the amount of magical artifacts it contained. Harry recognized many he had only previously read in books. Even Francois looked impressed by the collection.

“You have a beautiful office,” Harry said in all sincerity as he took a seat. His eyes widened as he caught sight of a phoenix, sitting primly on his perch near the window. “Is that…”

“Fawkes,” Dumbledore said proudly, “My familiar.”

He should be proud. Phoenixes were extremely rare after all. 

Harry gasped as the firebird took flight at that moment before landing on his shoulder. He cooed a few times, before settling down more comfortably, nuzzling Harry’s cheek. Harry’s skin tingled at the contact.

“He seems to really like you,” the older man said, beaming, “I’m glad. Fawkes is an excellent judge of character.”

“Headmaster,” Francois interrupted, tone far from friendly, “Not that I’m not enjoying this little tête-à-tête, but it’s been a long day and we want to go back to our quarters, I was hoping you could get this interrogation over with.”

“My boy,” Dumbledore frowned at him, “It’s not an interrogation. Lily and James Potter were two of my favorite students so interest in how their son is living his life is entirely normal.”

“If that is indeed the case,” Harry said coldly, “then why was I put with abusive relatives?”

Dumbledore looked a little uncomfortable at his question but Harry wasn’t backing down. This man, this great wizard, seemed to be full of contradictions. Harry had learned enough from Northolt to not be fooled by his pretty words.

“I am sorry about that,” he said slowly, “but I had to. The Dursleys were your last living blood relatives; to keep your mother’s protection alive, you needed to stay with them.”

“My mother’s protection,” Harry repeated.

“Yes,” Dumbledore smiled sadly, “Your mother sacrificed herself for you and that love was what protected you from the killing curse.”

Harry lost it.

He doubled over in his chair, laughing so hard he had difficulty breathing. Francois, he dimly noticed, was doing a little better then him but not by much. Fawkes, indignant at his abrupt movement, flew off and landed on the back of Francois’ chair.

“What, may I ask, is so funny?” Dumbledore said loudly. He looked more confused then offended.

“I apologize,” Harry took a deep breath, “I find it simply strange that such an accomplished wizard as yourself could believe in such utter nonsense. If you have done a little research, you would have quickly found out that love had nothing to do with anything.”

“Please explain,” Dumbledore urged, eyes narrowing at him.

“A few months back,” Harry said, “I visited the Department of Mysteries. I took a look at their book of requests as my project back then was on it. As you know, every request ever made was listed there. I didn’t expect to find my mother’s name. At that time, I only knew my parents were wizards but I did not know about the attack. I couldn’t understand why my mother, a month before her death according to our guide, requested the permission to perform one of the strongest protection rituals in existence, a ritual that relied on her blood. After I heard about the attack, everything made sense. She must have, for some reason, expected it and wanted to be prepared. The ritual, because of its dark nature, would have been enough to stop a killing curse.”

“Blood ritual,” Dumbledore repeated slowly, eyes wide. He looked like a man whose entire world has just been spun upside down.

“As you can see,” Harry continued, “This so called protection didn’t require leaving me with the Dursleys.”

“No,” Dumbledore said slowly, “It really didn’t.”

He suddenly stood up.

“Thank you for telling me all this Mr. Potter; it seems I have made a great error of judgement. I do apologize sincerely for the pain and suffering I made you go through as a result of it. You have given me a lot of things to think about. I believe that is enough for today.”

Harry and Francois both stood up.

“Thank you for your time,” they both said, as if they were the ones to have requested the meeting.

It didn’t hurt to be polite after all.

Dumbledore barely paid them any attention as they left his office, his mind still occupied. 

“Nice man,” Francois grumbled once they were far away from the spiral staircase leading to the Headmaster’s office.

Harry laughed. 

“A little idealistic,” he said, “surprisingly.”

“Yeah,” Francois agreed. They walked for a few minutes in silence before the french wizard suddenly stopped in his tracks.

“Francois?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Hello,” said Francois, voice tense. Harry turned to see who he was talking to.

“Hello,” Ginevra Weasley replied before a truly terrifying smile took over her features.

**TBC**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Slash, OMC, non-Canon Magic School, Dark and Powerful!Harry, Sexual content (it will be very present), violence. If you don’t like Slash, please turn away.


End file.
